


Hope Amidst the Harlequins in Spring: A Fire Emblem: Three Houses Story

by panda_reads



Series: Seasonal Affections (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Celebrations, Divine Pulse (Fire Emblem), Divine Pulse Angst (Fire Emblem), Divine Pulse Deaths (Fire Emblem), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Love, Married Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reunions, Romance, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Suspense, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_reads/pseuds/panda_reads
Summary: The Spring festival heralds the arrival of a new season and new life. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the city of Fhirdiad welcome the coming bounty of spring, the turning from old seasons, and honors lives created and lost. Even as the war becomes distant, realities and obligations set in, and old friendships are celebrated, there may still be a cost to be paid in blood.Series: Seasonal Affections, Part 1: Spring
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Series: Seasonal Affections (Fire Emblem: Three Houses) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921654
Comments: 17
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Approx. 18 months post-war
> 
> Title from: ‘Rivers In Your Mouth’ – Ben Howard (‘I Forget Where We Were’, 2014)

The Queen woke before her husband. It was no easy task to disentangle herself from his arms without waking him. Given his tendency to switch abruptly from sleep to waking, often reaching for the short knife he kept beneath his pillow, she had learned to gently and carefully tease her way free. The moment her feet touched the floor, she heard him groan, and worried he might wake. Instead, he muttered something unintelligible, and fumbled for her pillow, cradled it against his chest, and buried his face in the fabric. His breathing evened out, and he sank deeper into sleep.

If she hadn’t already made promises the night before, she would crawl back into bed.

She looked at her husband - his great height, body curled around the soft pillow, blond hair in messy tangles, face relaxed in sleep, his shoulders rising in time with his breath – and loved him a bit more. Every time she looked at him, whenever she saw his smile or the light in his left eye, or when she was with him, when his hands cradled her face for a kiss or his arms enfolded her body against his, goddess, she loved him more. She’d watched him grow, evolve, change, become a stranger, an animal in flesh, and slowly, agonizingly, painfully, and beautifully, become a man.

She admired him for another minute.

Scars dappled his pale skin; some angry red and purple, poorly healed, jagged marks, wounds she could only imagine at the origins of, and ached that she had not been there to help him during. Others were finely tended to with magic and medicine, nearly faded, some she had laid her own hands on, despite his hisses and protests that others took precedent. His scars were a story, one she was proud to be part of.

Some nights, when he could not sleep, she sat beside him, traced the scars, her fingertips as calloused as his – a mercenary’s work was never truly forgotten, no matter that it had been eighteen months since she’d been one – and calmed him. He talked on those nights, about any topic that came into his head, anything to keep from sleep. He would talk himself senseless, or until he slurred his words in the early morning hours, losing track of his thoughts, and would pull her close, bury his nose against her long hair and sink into slumber.

Last night had been one of those nights, though it was excitement, not anxiety, that kept him awake. He’d talked about conversations he’d had with friends, the laughter he’d shared, how happy he was to simply be allowed _to be_ in Fhirdiad. “Things are changing,” he’d yawned before falling asleep, cradling her close. “It feels right.”

Now, he slept peacefully, his face still, lost in what she prayed was a dreamless, empty slumber. The Queen did not need as much sleep as her husband. Perhaps it was a byproduct of her nature, but a few hours suited her as well as a full night. Despite that, seeing his face, the calm that radiated around him, she was tempted to return to bed.

No. No, she’d made promises.

She tip-toed to the door, eased it open, found a guard stationed outside, standing against the opposite wall. He bowed her to her. “Good morning,” she said softly. “His Majesty needs to sleep a few more hours.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

She smiled, bobbed her head. She headed for her private rooms and her morning bath. She found rose petals strewn about the already prepared water, and reveled in the luxury of warm stone and hot water. It was almost like the monastery baths, heated and steamy, calming and relaxing. She dunked her head, scrubbed tonic through her hair, sank into the water to clean it away, and came out feeling like an entirely new human being.

She stepped out of the tub, dried herself clean, and dressed in simple, flowing black trousers and shirt. She combed her pale green hair out of her eyes, dried it as thoroughly as she could. She worked it into a braid, tied back from her face, and checked her appearance in the mirror. She looked nearly normal.

_I don’t look like a queen, not a mercenary, not the Archbishop. I just look like a person._

She studied her reflection.

She liked what she saw these days. A pale blush to her cheeks, pale green eyes and hair, a confident smile that drew people in. She smiled at herself. _How far I came, Father. If you could see me now._

She could imagine Jeralt’s reaction to everything that had happened. She could hear her father’s whiskey-warm voice, alternating between practical, amused, and confounded: _“A war? Kid, we’ve been on every side in wars. Picking the right side isn’t easy, but sometimes we get lucky.”_

_“Rhea turned into a dragon. Huh. That’s new.”_

_“Wait,_ that’s _the prince? Well, he’s a mess and a half. He’d better watch himself. He’s not the only one who knows his way around a lance, and I’m much more patient than he is.”_

_“So, it just took a few more deaths to knock him out of it, huh? Just don’t let him knock_ you _out of it, kid. He needs you like air, but you need to breathe, too.”_

That last seemed the most like her father, ever practical, oddly poetic. She missed him every day, his kindness, his fury in battle, his careful teaching, and his patience. Mostly, she missed his patience, his good ear for listening, and his ever-practical advice, especially during hard decisions.

She pressed her fingertips to the mirror. “I’m still here, Father,” she murmured. “I’m still here, I’m fine, I’m safe, and I have people I love, and who love me in return. I have friends; I have a family. Look how far you brought me.”

She could almost see him looking back at her, a fond smirk creasing his face. _“Kid,_ you _brought you this far. I just opened the doors.”_

Queen Byleth Eisner Blaiddyd, wife to King Dimitri Alexander Blaiddyd of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, finished her morning routine, and prepared to go outside and explore the city of Fhirdiad. The spring festival was upon the city, and she looked forward to seeing it with her friends.

* * *

Byleth stopped in the kitchen on her way out for a cup of tea. The cook had already set up a service for her, and she prepared her tea the way she liked it – no milk, no sugar, just fragrant and earthy. She sipped the tea, savored the warmth. Spring mornings were cool in Fhirdiad, though summer would be an entirely other kind of weather.

_It will be cold in Garreg Mach, still._

She did not want to think about that. It felt too soon, too far removed. _One week, just one more week._

She shook the thoughts from her mind. She was going to have a good day, a happy day. She planned to meet with Annette and Mercedes at the sweet shop that Annette would not stop talking about, and had praised every day for the past three weeks Byleth had been in Fhirdiad. They would spend the day together, and then, tomorrow evening, the festival would begin. The entire Blue Lions House was expected to reunite for a grand feast and reunion, and she could hardly wait to see them all. Eighteen months after the war, she wondered how much everyone had changed and grown, and knew, in her heart, that they were all safe, secure, and satisfied.

Life, it seemed, and the goddess, were finally kind.

She finished her tea, thanked the cook, and walked to the side door of the palace. She took a satchel from the wall, draped it over her shoulder, and gathered a pair of her boots. She tugged them on, wiggled her toes for stability, and walked out into the morning air. She breathed deep.

_One more week. It will get easier._

She smiled to herself.

_It_ will _get easier._

* * *

The sweets shop and its terrace bustled with customers. Men and women, children of all ages, the elderly, commoners and nobility; there was no divide here, not in this place. Everyone chatted happily, basking in the comforting scents and tastes of sweet pastries, candies and chocolates, fruit jams and floury cookies.

Annette hugged Byleth tightly in greeting outside the shop, a childish, warm giggle rising in her throat as they embraced. “Professor! You made it.”

Byleth hadn’t been anyone’s professor in years, but the old title warmed her still heart, reminded her how much these students – these young people – meant to her, how much they’d grown and changed, what they’d survived and become. Annette, bright, bubbly, cheerful Annette, had never faded, never allowed the war or its aftermath to darken her sweetness and light. She scanned the crowd. “Mercie will be here any second now.” She squeezed Byleth’s hand. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“You did, but, I thought, with how busy you are…”

“Annette. I’m never too busy for any of you. You know that.”

“I know.” Annette sighed, then brightened. “And it’s not like we won’t see each other. Mercie will be at Garreg Mach for a few months, and I’ll be going back and forth between the monastery and Fhirdiad. So, we’ll see each other.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

Byleth took her hand. “Annette. I haven’t changed just because my title did.”

“But, you’re the Archbishop _and_ the Queen. That’s a lot.”

“It is, but, I’m still me.” Byleth smiled. “Trust me on that.”

Annette smiled. “You really are, aren’t you? You’ll always be there for us.” She winked. “Your Grace. Oh, wait, Your Majesty.”

Byleth groaned, as Mercedes joined them. She looked at Annette, then at Byleth, and scolded, “Annie, are you teasing the professor?”

“Of course,” Annette admitted cheerfully. “Where’s the fun if we can’t?”

Byleth laughed. “You’ll have to tease me,” she said. “Don’t let me get too serious.”

“Never,” Annette promised. “The same goes for His Majesty. We can’t let him forget how to laugh.”

“So long as Sylvain and Felix are around, don’t you worry about that,” Byleth assured her.

“Felix can laugh?” Annette looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure I believe that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh.”

“Sylvain ensures that he does.”

“Doesn’t Sylvain have some pretty girl to chase after?”

“He has several, but he always ends up at the Fraldarius estate.”

“Oh?”

Byleth winked.

“ _Oh_ ,” Annette said, “that’s _adorable_.”

“Aren’t we seeing them tomorrow night for the big reunion meal? They’re joining us, along with Ingrid, Ashe, and Dedue?” Mercedes asked. “It’s so exciting. We haven’t all been in the same room since your wedding, professor, um, I mean, Your Majesty, and—“

“You two can always call me Byleth,” Byleth said. “You and all the rest, you’ve earned it a thousand times over. You’re my friends, not my students.” She draped an arm over each young woman’s shoulder, hugged them. “You two, and Ingrid, are like the sisters I never had, so none of that fancy title nonsense when it’s just us.”

Annette and Mercedes giggled.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Annette said, “Oh, nothing, just, you sounded like Captain Jeralt when you said that.”

Byleth smiled. They weren’t wrong. “I did, didn’t I?”

“I only ever talked to him a few times, but I could see how he influenced you and the way you taught us. I wish I’d gotten to know him better.” Annette’s expression grew sad. “Do you think he’s proud of us? How we fought to save as many people as we could?” Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that, it’s so personal, and—“

“He would be proud,” Byleth said, lowering her arms. “He would be proud of us for standing up for what we believed in, for caring for our friends, for protecting people, and making sure that we saw our battles through.” She looked at her left hand; a silver band with an emerald sparkled on her finger. “We fought for the people we love.”

Despite her reassurance, Byleth sensed Annette’s anxiety. “He would also want us to enjoy our lives and our victories, because we are here to do so.” She clapped her hands together. “And, if I have to stand here for one more moment with all of these incredible smells, and not taste anything, I might go mad.”

Annette burst into laughter. Mercedes giggled, and said, “I think they have chocolate buns today. They’re not too sweet, and if I remember, you don’t like sweets quite as much as Annie and I do.”

“She likes the not-quite-as-sweet sweets,” Annette said. “Come on, we can’t wait forever, or they’ll sell out. Chocolate buns, here we come!”

Byleth smiled as their moods brightened, and the three of them entered the sweets shop.

* * *

The bun was a spectacular treat, a flaky, buttery pastry wrapped around sticky bittersweet chocolate. Byleth savored every bite, and watched with unmasked joy as Mercedes practically swooned over a sweet apple tart, while Annette tried to guess the flavors of glass-like sweet candies. “I think this one is strawberry,” she said, her face fixed in a thoughtful expression as she rolled the candy over her tongue. She’d bought a tiny caramel pie to enjoy later, secretly, she whispered conspiratorially, “That way no one can judge me.”

Byleth laughed so hard she nearly dropped her bun. She’d bought two extra buns, and they were nestled in her satchel.

By the time they finished their treats, the mid-day bells were ringing in Fhirdiad. “Well, what next?” Annette asked, tucking her uneaten treats into her pack. “I think we still have time to spend together. What should we do now?”

“Should we go for a walk by the river?” Mercedes asked. “We can watch them set up for the festival tomorrow.”

Byleth thought that sounded like a splendid idea. “Thank you for the treats,” she told them. “This was so much fun. We will have to do this again.”

“We’ll have to invite the others next time,” Annette said. “You can bring His Majesty. I know he doesn’t like sweets, but, they make other things, like smoky tea and they also have these salty burned sugar biscuits. They’re delicious. Oh! I know, maybe during the winter festival, all of us can come here. Their winter treats are completely different.”

“Should we plan for another reunion meal?” Mercedes wondered. “That would be lovely, if every year, we could do that.”

“Spring and winter festival reunions,” Annette said wistfully. “And given how much things can change in six months between festivals, it would be so great to see everyone together again.” She looked at Byleth. “I’ll bet you could get away for both festivals. After all, you’re technically in charge of the Church. They couldn’t stop you, could they?”

“Not so long as Seteth is around.” Byleth folded her arms. “He’s kept some of the thornier priests at bay the last month while I’ve been here. It’s helped.”

“If you need me to light anybody on fire,” Annette stage-whispered, “I will.”

“Please don’t do anything rash on my behalf.” Byleth’s eyes sparkled. “Besides, I’m rather handy with a fire spell myself, thank you very much.”

“You’re _destructive_ with one,” Annette corrected. “I, on the hand, am quite elegant.”

Mercedes sighed. “I hope I don’t have to prevent you from lighting thorny priests on fire when we’re back at the monastery.”

Byleth laughed, stepped between her friends, and looped her arms through theirs. “Come on, you two,” she said, “let’s enjoy our walk. We can talk about the elegance of fire spells at another time.”

* * *

They watched from a stone bridge while groups of people set up displays of wheat bundles, fresh fruit, apples of all sizes and colors – bright red, rosy pink, bright green, and some that were a curious shade of purple – wines and spirits. Annette pointed out the various villages representations that contributed to Faerghus’ bounty. “Rowen is famous for their apples,” she said when Byleth arched an eyebrow at the purple apples. “They have these immense orchards, and they managed to protect most of them during the war. There’s a joke that that’s why baked apples are such a specialty there, now.”

The bounty of spring was worthy of celebration in Faerghus. Byleth couldn’t have imagined, not even two years before, that she would be standing in Fhirdiad, the capital, with two of her dearest friends, in peacetime, and enjoying the simplicity of a spring festival.

_To sleep for five years, to miss so much, to fight for so much more, to drag ourselves back from the brink, and to enjoy this victory, it’s almost too much._

She thought fondly of the goddess who had been with her for so long, who was now a part of her, who had saved her life, and so many others. _Sothis. My friend, my protector. I’ll do what I can to live up to your expectations. I won’t let anyone down ever again._

She could almost hear the childlike, teasing retort: _“You’d better. I didn’t save your life all those years ago so you could be lazy in your victories.”_

She was still smiling when a small boy shyly approached and asked if Her Grace, the Archbishop, might grant him her blessing. He was so small, half her height, with a thick head of black hair, and wide grey eyes. There was such innocence in his expression that Byleth couldn’t deny him. She crouched in front of the boy, took his hands in hers, and wished him well, and that the goddess, Sothis, look after him. The boy beamed, and nearly tackled her when he hugged her. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he whispered in her ear. She returned his embrace, and she heard Annette and Mercedes sigh as one: “Aww…”

Byleth’s heart didn’t beat, but she was warm. She held the boy by his shoulders. “You will be all right,” she said softly, meant only for his ears. “No matter what you do, no matter where you go, we made a world where you, and children like you, will be all right.”

The boy took her hand, and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re our Archbishop _and_ our Queen.” He hugged her again, and scampered off, crowing, “Mother! Mother! The Archbishop _hugged_ me!”

A dark-haired woman on the other side of the bridge looked up, and gave Byleth the biggest smile as the boy crashed into her legs, hugging her. “Did you see, Mother? Did you see? The _Queen_ hugged me, too!”

The woman laughed, and ruffled the boy’s hair. They strolled off towards the festival set up, hand in hand.

Byleth stood, dusted off her skirt. When she looked at Annette and Mercedes, they were both grinning like fools. “What?”

“That was so _cute_ ,” Annette said. “Did you see his little face?”

“You’re so good with children, Byleth,” Mercedes said. “The orphans at Garreg Mach will be thrilled to have you near.”

Byleth smiled. Inside, she felt a slight tremor. _The festival is tomorrow, and at the end of next week, I leave for the monastery._

_We haven’t even talked about it._

I _haven’t wanted to talk about it._

She looked over her shoulder at the direction the woman and boy had gone. They were near one of the festival displays, the boy scrambling over the dried hay bales, playing with other children, while the woman chatted with the adults. Everyone looked so comfortable, so content.

_I can do this,_ she thought. _I can live two lives, in two roles, but a third, the most precious, I must not take for granted._

She looked at Annette and Mercedes. “Thank you both for the lovely day,” she said. “It’s so good to see you, to spend time with you, and I’ve had a wonderful time. I’m feeling a bit tired, and I want to be at my best for tomorrow. Would you mind walking with me back to the palace?”

Annette took her arm. “Of course. I had so much fun. Whenever you’re here, we’ll make sure to do this. Mercie, when you’re at the monastery, make sure you make time for fun, too.”

Mercedes took Byleth’s arm. “We’ll find a way.”

Arms interlocked, they walked across the bridge, back towards the palace.

When a small group of geese raced by, three children chasing after, they giggled and waited, admiring the puffs of feathers and squeals of childish laughter.

As they waited for the chaos to end, Byleth glanced around the gathered people. She noticed a man, dressed in dark red shirt and black trousers, standing with a few soldiers. The man was young, not quite thirty, with thinning hair, and a handsome face; his soldiers were dressed in red, with gold braid at their shoulders. The man saw her, and smiled, though there was something off in it, as though he were looking past her.

Byleth glanced over her shoulder. She saw no one.

“What is it?” Annette asked.

“I’m not sure,” Byleth admitted. She looked back to the man in red, who continued smiling, and raised his hand to stroke a small stone at hanging around his neck. There was something in that gesture that sent a slither of uncertainty up her spine.

She was about to say something, but Mercedes squeezed her arm. “Come on,” she said brightly. “Let’s go see if those children caught their geese. Then we can go to the palace.”

Annette said, “I think they caught one! Oh, no! Look at all those feathers. Well, I guess they have pillow stuffing.”

Byleth felt her discomfort vanishing. Annette and Mercedes were such warm presences in her life, optimistic, eager for the future, and so _alive_. She couldn’t imagine a world without the two of them in it, and felt a bit lighter by the time they said their good-byes – “For now!” Annette emphasized. “Only ever for now” – at the palace doors.


	2. Chapter 2

Dedue met her as she was taking her boots off. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Did you have a good day?” he asked.

“I had a lovely time,” she said. “Here, I brought a treat for you.” She handed him one of the chocolate buns from the sweets shop, and he gave a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“They’re quite good,” she assured him. “Not nearly as sweet as those buns the cook made two weeks ago. Remember? The ones he insisted were authentic Faerghus fare?”

Dedue made a dubious face. “The buns that tasted entirely of sugar, butter, more sugar, and, oh, I believe sugar was also involved.”

Byleth smiled. “They weren’t _that_ bad.”

“They most certainly were not good.”

“I guess that means you should make dessert from now on.”

“I would certainly do better than sugared buns.”

Byleth giggled.

Dedue cracked another smile. She always managed to make him smile. He admired her all the more for her ability to draw out his easier moods, and for the light she brought into the King’s eyes. “Thank you for the bun,” he said. “I will enjoy this.”

“I’m glad. How was today?”

“Busy,” he confirmed. “Dimitri has been in meetings since mid-morning, and only recently told the herald to postpone all other meetings until after festival. He’s quite drained, but, in otherwise good spirits.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“I believe I last saw him in the library. Have you eaten dinner, Byleth?”

Of all the students, apart from Dimitri, he had most easily taken to not addressing her by titles. He teased her on occasion with a ‘Your Grace’ when particularly nosey priests and clerics grumbled about her marriage and sacred duties being contradictory and impossible to maintain, but she knew it was Dedue’s way of reminding those dissenters that the world was changing, whether they liked it or not. Dedue claimed Byleth among his two closest friends, and had seen her bring his dearest friend back from the brink of insanity and self-destruction; he now served as their friend and bodyguard, and it was a role no other could fill.

“Apart from pastry,” she admitted, “no.”

“I will speak with the cook. Do you have any preferences?”

“None, thank you. I should go see Dimitri. It sounds like he didn’t have nearly as enjoyable a day as I did.”

“I believe it is simply the kind of exhaustion that a king expects. There are so many nobles with questions and concerns, it’s a wonder they get anything else done.”

“I don’t envy him.”

“I doubt he envies your duties either, Your Grace.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Dedue chuckled softly. “I suspect that you will have many common experiences to discuss in the future. Fear not, I will always be here to ensure the nobles are kept in their place, and that they do not push _too_ hard.” He smiled thinly. “Though if they do, His Majesty has a rigorous training regimen, and would be pleased to spar with them, should they continue to push.”

“I’m not as worried about that part.”

“Ah. Yes.” His smile softened. “He has only escaped my notice on a ride once, and was apologetic after. When he needs solitude, I will still be there. You have my word that I will alert you, should any cause for concern arise.”

“Thank you, Dedue,” she said, and took his hand. “You are my very dear friend. Thank you for looking out for him when I’m not here.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “You haven’t talked about leaving for Garreg Mach.”

She averted her eyes. “No, we haven’t.”

“He is aware and prepared,” he assured her. “We discussed your leaving the other day, and he is better prepared than the last time.”

“I wish I was,” she admitted. “I know I have to go, I know what is expected of me, but I don’t want to, because it means leaving him, and you, and all of this.” She sighed. “I’m a coward.’

“No.” Dedue shook his head. “You are not a coward. You have been married for just over a year, and you have hardly been together for longer than a month at a time. Your duties demand a great deal from you both.” He gave her fingers an affectionate squeeze. “Eighteen months after a war, most countries are struggling to rebuild. Here? We are preparing for a spring festival, and we will celebrate with our friends, tomorrow evening. We are victorious, and it is only fitting that we allow ourselves to enjoy that victory while we are able to do so.”

She stood on her toes, gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You are a very wise man of Duscar.”

He blushed. “I do try.”

She returned the squeeze to his hand. “I’ll see myself to the library. When you speak with the cook, why don’t you ask for a third setting for yourself? We can have dinner, the three of us.”

He smiled. “I will. Thank you, Your Grace.”

She scoffed theatrically, and walked through the palace hallways to one of the side staircases. She climbed to the fourth floor and headed for the library. She had a favorite chair near the fireplace, and was not at all surprised to see Dimitri lounging comfortably in it. He still dressed for court in black trousers and sleeves, long legs stretched out, head tipped back, blond hair fanned across the back of the chair. She crept up behind him, found his solitary pale blue left eye staring up at her, the right covered by a black patch. A smile curled the corners of his mouth, transforming his face.

His smile warmed her silent heart.

_I once feared I’d never see this expression again._

“Hello, beloved,” she said, and kissed his forehead.

“Hello, beloved,” he echoed. “I hope your adventure with Annette and Mercedes went well.”

“It did. I brought you a chocolate bun.”

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy that.”

“Dedue is checking with the cook for dinner. I invited him to join us.”

His smile grew, content, comfortable. He settled back in his chair, closed his eye. “Join me,” he invited. She walked to the side of the chair, draped herself over the arms, settled her head against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat through his shirt, a steady, powerful rhythm that seemed to her like a great lion’s pulse.

“The spring festival set up is going well,” she told him. “Annette and Mercedes are looking forward to dinner tomorrow night, when we all get together. I told them that Sylvain makes Felix laugh, and Annette doesn’t quite believe me.”

Dimitri snorted. “She doesn’t remember seeing him drunk.”

Byleth agreed. “I don’t think she does, either.”

“It is quite the sight,” the King opined, eye still closed, a lazy grin creasing his mouth. “Felix Fraldarius, drunk as you like, laughing like he hasn’t done since we were children.”

“I remember everyone being quite drunk at our wedding.”

“My dear wife, I believe you and I were the only sober people in the room.”

“That, my dear husband, is because we wanted to remember the experience.”

He grinned wider.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, I’m just remembering a certain 1173 vintage.” His hand trailed over her back. “And a roaring fire.” His eye cracked open, a mischievous sparkle in the pale depths. “And a very comfortable bed.”

She walked her fingers up his chest and neck, stroked his jaw. “Is that your way of saying I should sneak down the cellar tonight and procure us a good bottle?”

“Not at all. There’s a perfectly good 1165 in the bedroom right now. By the time we’re ready for it, it will be at the perfect temperature.”

She laughed. “Are you suggesting we celebrate spring tonight?”

He tilted his head back, a low laugh rumbling in his chest.

“Tease,” she said.

He just smiled.

* * *

Dedue joined them for a simple meal of roast chicken and fresh vegetables, with baked apples and honey for dessert. They laughed more than Byleth could remember doing in weeks. Even Dimitri was in high spirits, and provoked a good deal of the laughter by telling her about a particularly pompous noble from his day’s meetings.

“Now, Dedue, you’ll have to remember this man’s title the next time he shows up, because I can’t, for the life of me, do it without losing my composure. Here we go.” He struggled to keep from laughing. “The man’s name is Lord Alphonse Henri Maximillian du Maurier III, His Most Regal Eminence…” Dimitri snickered. “I can’t,” he said, holding up his hands. “I can’t do it. The man’s absurd.”

“His Most Regal Eminence of what?” Byleth asked, fascinated by the absurdity. “What? You can’t leave me in suspense like this.”

Dedue, amused, said, “He is a merchant.”

“Of what? Furs? Silks? With a name like that, is he a banker?”

“’His Most Regal Eminence of the Pisces Order,’” Dimitri managed, grinning. “I appreciate fish as much as the next man – the sea’s bounty blesses us, and all that – but, that man. He was so serious.” He looked at Dedue. “Even Dedue could barely keep a straight face.”

“’The Pisces Order.’” Byleth gawked. “You are both having me on.”

“I assure you, Your Grace, we are not,” Dedue said.

“The man is a fishmonger?”

“A very rich fishmonger who is also very full of himself. I was almost grateful to have him followed by a former imperial.” Dimitri shook his head, still chuckling. “Absurd, simply absurd. Lord du Maurier is a rich man, a newly minted noble, so expect to see him at courts across the country. He will talk to you for as long as he pleases about fish. I personally can’t wait until he returns for the winter festival.”

“There was an imperial noble here?” Byleth felt some of her humor fade. She recalled the man near the bridge, and his odd smile.

Dimitri drummed his fingers on the table. “Lord Vincent von Aufrech. He is spending the festival in Fhirdiad, visiting distant family. As a representative of the former Empire, he asked for an audience.”

“It was a cordial exchange,” Dedue said. “Both His Majesty and the noble were respectful.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she said, and told them about the man in red.

“You doubt his intentions.” Dimitri looked thoughtful after hearing of his odd smile and mannerisms. “Now I do, too, especially if you saw him with soldiers. Interesting.”

“He visited you alone? What did he want?”

“Soldiers aren’t allowed in the palace if they aren’t mine. Nothing of importance. Oddly, the only noble who didn’t ask for favors. He wished to make his presence known, and to alert us that he would be at the festival.”

“That seems harmless enough.”

“It does, but experience tells me to be mindful of him.”

Dedue said, “No guards have reported soldiers anywhere near the palace.”

“Interesting. Based on what we just heard, they were in the city. Did you see them at any other time?” he asked Byleth.

“No, not until we were returning.”

“I’m sure he’s aware of how foolish it would be to underestimate you, or your companions.” The King’s pale eye sparked. “We’re none of us helpless, here.”

“No, we aren’t,” Byleth agreed.

They sat quietly, listening to the fire burn and crackle in the hearth.

“No,” Dimitri repeated, “we’re not helpless. We fought for this, we took back our homes, our lands, our people. No former imperial will frighten us here, no matter how innocent his intentions may be.” He held out his hand. Byleth and Dedue both took it; their three hands intertwined, friendship and love making each stronger.

Dimitri looked at their hands, and smiled, a shadow of the boar, but the heart of a lion. “I swear it,” he said quietly, looking into the eyes of the ones he loved most. “No one will frighten us in our own home, no matter what land they come from.”

* * *

They carried the empty plates and platters down to the kitchens. Working together, they made quick work of the cleaning. Dedue bid them good night, a cup of tea in one hand, a book in the other. They wished him a good evening, and returned to their shared room.

A fire burned gently, lit by the servants. Byleth waved her hand, igniting the various candles surrounding them.

Dimitri closed and locked the door, before he pulled Byleth into his arms, hugged her tightly, and buried his nose in her hair. She smelled like traces of chocolate, the crackling roasted meat from dinner, and sweet honey and apples. She leaned into him, folded her arms behind his back. Feeling the tension in his muscles, she concentrated on a calming white magic spell.

The instant her hands warmed with magic, he said, “No, beloved, no, I’m fine.” He kissed her, took one of her hands, pressed his lips to her knuckles. “I am fine.”

She scanned his face, but there was only truth there. “What you said at dinner, about the imperial. We aren’t helpless.”

“No, we aren’t, and I won’t allow one man to frighten anyone in my house or my people.” He cracked a small smile. “Old habits, you know.” He tipped her chin up. “Something troubles you, and it isn’t a former imperial.”

“I’m leaving at the end of next week,” she said.

He nodded. “I know.”

“We haven’t talked about it. I haven’t wanted to.”

“To be fair, I haven’t wanted to, either.”

“You’ll visit?”

“I will try. Will you?”

“I will try.” She smiled, blinked a tear from her eyes. “It’s not as though I can’t send a messenger, or a hawk, just for you.”

“If our winged friends can bring your messages faster, then by all means.” He smiled fondly. “Though they are greedy. A treat for them usually involves a tiny mouse.”

“And here you are, a mighty lion.”

He chuckled. “With a goddess at his side.”

“I’m hardly that, and—hey!”

He swept her up in his arms. She was compact, strong, and still small compared to him. He nuzzled her throat.

“We should talk,” she protested. “While we still can, the festival is the next few days, and after that, we won’t—“

“We will talk.”

“I just think—“

“Beloved,” he interrupted. “For one night, let our minds be silent and not worry. We have one another. That is enough.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she said. “I must tell you that more.”

“You tell me in so many ways without words.”

“Then I must make sure you always know.”

“If there is one thing I do not doubt, it is you.” He kissed her. “Never you.”

“I will miss you.”

“None of that tonight,” he said. “None of that.”

He lowered her to the floor. Their hands were familiar, knowing one another’s clothes, the ties and buttons, clasps and belts. They tossed their clothes to the side, fabric mingling in a heap. He lifted her onto the bed, and with a whisper of magic, she extinguished the fire and the candles lighting the room.

* * *

Dimitri woke before Byleth did, the grey sky before sunrise filtering through the bedroom curtains. She lay against his chest; her hair tickled his nose. He smiled, smoothed the pale green strands beneath his fingers. His beloved Queen, his wife, his lover, his soul’s friend. He had so many things he could call her, and yet, _beloved_ still sat atop the list. He’d had a restful sleep, and, for once, felt no pressing need to leave the bed. She was warm and soft against him, and he tried not to think of her impending absence.

She hadn’t wanted to talk about it; neither had he. Avoiding the subject did them no good, and the previous few times she had visited, they took the time to talk, to decide what time could be taken, how to _make_ time. _“A pity we can’t just stop time,”_ she’d said the previous winter, while a Red Wolf Moon hovered in the sky, and they lay beneath a heavy comforter, warm and secure.

He would never want to stop time, not truly. He’d spent enough of his life frozen in a way of thought, in a way of life, and now, he called his life his own. He lived for himself, for her, for his friends and his people. He would never take her for granted, never want to stop time, when he’d lost so much of it already.

He folded his left arm around her shoulder, pulled her close. She mumbled something that sounded, to his ears, like _“porcupine.”_ He wondered if she’d seen one in waddling in the woods during the ride they’d taken the week before.

He smiled fondly. She’d taken to horses so quickly, despite insisting during his academy days that she was uncomfortable around them, and only tolerated them for her father’s convenience. The grey mare in the palace stables was hers, a fine creature called Isa, and if Dimitri hadn’t known better, he might have assumed Byleth had been riding horses her entire life. Perhaps she simply needed to meet the right horse.

He studied her sleeping face, and wondered how he might arrange his first visit to the monastery. After the spring festival, Fhirdiad would be quiet until the mid-summer, and he might have some free time, hours or days where the court didn’t need him. A not-quite-three-day ride was all that stood between them during those times she was away.

_It is selfish to want our own lives, especially when so many rely on us._

He kissed her hair.

_We have survived far worse than separation,_ he thought, resting his cheek against her forehead. _We will continue to do so._

She stirred, and mumbled, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He pulled her closer, felt her hands pressed over his heart. A heartbeat was the one thing they did not share, but she was so warm, a bundle of heat against him. It was odd that such a thing had never disturbed him as it might once have. It might have been that night she stopped him in the rain, pulled him back from his self-loathing, his darkness, and simply gave him her hand, warm and small, her eyes pale and inviting.

_“Stay with me.”_

He could never have decided anything else.

“We should get up,” she murmured, eyes still closed.

“We should,” he agreed.

“I don’t want to.”

“Then we won’t.”

“They’ll come looking for you.”

“Not so long as that door is closed, they won’t.”

One pale green eye cracked open, peered at him suspiciously.

He smiled, pushed his hair out of his good eye. “Sometimes in spring, a man just wants to stay in bed with his wife. When you’re king, you can tell people to leave you be for a little while longer.”

“Even when there’s a festival?”

“Oh, feh,” he snorted. “There’s always time for that.” He lowered his head, kissed her warm mouth. “We don’t often have this quiet,” he whispered. “So, let’s enjoy it while we can.”

She crowded closer to him, closed her eyes. He tightened his arm around her, closed his eye, and rested his head against hers. _Just a short while longer._

* * *

Perhaps two hours later, she departed the bed first. She kissed him, and he reached for her hand, tangled their fingers together. She smiled, and walked towards the door. He moved to the edge of the bed, holding her fingers as long as he could while she moved away. She laughed, and he grinned, because what else could a man so in love do?

“I’ll see you in the throne room,” she said.

“I’ll meet you there.” He watched her go, rolled from the comforter and sheets. He haphazardly made the bed, but knew the servants would be irritated if he did their jobs for them. He’d once been good at making a bed, an old habit from his academy days. He sometimes imagined those days were a dream made up by a version of himself that no longer existed. He’d spent so long sleeping where he could, in any fashion or place, that a bed was still a strange thing at times.

_No longer a beast, no longer a monster, simply a man. I am myself; I am no other. I belong to myself, and to one other, and the dead will rest._

Goddess, he _hoped_ they rested.

None of that talk. It was spring. It was time for renewal. He shook the thoughts away.

He wrapped a dressing gown around himself, walked to his private washroom. He bathed, dressed in black trousers and shirt, buttoned a dark blue vest over his shirt. He looked at his reflection in the mirror while he slipped the patch over his scarred eye. He combed his hair, strands falling over his face, no matter what he did. He snorted at himself, feeling a bit foolish.

_Apart from the hair, you look decent, like a warrior king._

Yes, a warrior king.

No matter what progress he made, no matter how his country and kingdom thrived, he would always be a warrior king. He knew that as surely as he knew his heartbeat – _as he knew the absence of hers, but the truth of her warmth_ – and knew he would, and could, live up to the expectations of his friends and people. He had a country to rule and see forward because of so many others, and they trusted him. He would make them proud to call him their king.

He tried to smile at his reflection, but it was an awkward gesture. He could not quite do it, and instead settled for a passive stare, a single glint of ice against itself. He would always be his own most dangerous foe; he was more than aware. “I will rely on you,” he said to his reflection, “to keep me in check. I will not fall again. I will be myself, always, and no other.”

His reflection seemed to smile, a knowing, predatory smile, a whispered voice in his mind: _The lion without, the boar within. We are one, and we heed the voices of the living, now. We heed_ her _voice,_ her _warmth. We will do what must be done, but we are not a beast. We are not an animal._

_It is spring. We are renewed, and we are whole after the winter’s chill._

_Yes,_ he thought. _Yes, I am renewed, and I am whole, now. I will remain whole when she leaves, and I will still be whole when she returns. I am renewed when she is here, and I am not broken when she departs. She is my beloved, and I am hers, forever._

He exited the washroom, found Byleth in the hallway. She wore a dark blue silk scarf around her shoulders, a black shirt and long skirt. She smiled at him, and it nearly stopped his breath. He extended his hand, took hers, kissed her knuckles. “I am my beloved’s, as my beloved is mine,” he whispered.

“I am yours,” she agreed, her eyes shining.

“I thought you were going to meet me in the throne room,” he teased.

“You know, I was, but then I thought, I wanted you to myself for a few more minutes.”

He took her arm in his. “Well, my lady, might I escort you?”

“You most certainly may, my lord.”

They entered the throne room, and another day.

* * *

The imperial noble - Lord Vincent von Aufrech – sent a messenger at midday.

Dimitri and Byleth were poring over the arrangements for the reunion dinner with Dedue, who politely told the cook that former academy students had a fondness for good meals, not tiny plates with samples of food that required two bites each. The cook argued that tiny plates were quite popular in the former Empire, as well as across the sea, and Dedue, with the keen authority of a man well-versed in a kitchen, said, “These were men and women who fought a war on nearly-empty stomachs. This is a celebration of a war victory, not an afternoon tea.”

When the cook considered that, he said, “Perhaps three roasted geese, two turkeys, and an assortment of soups and fruit. I believe there is enough time to order some pies from the sweets shop that Miss Annette is so fond of.”

“The end of winter and the beginning of spring?” Byleth asked. “That sounds like a lovely feast to me.”

Dedue nodded, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Do it,” Dimitri agreed. If the suggestions pleased Byleth and Dedue, then he trusted their instincts. The cook bowed, and returned to his domain.

A guard approached and announced Lord Vincent von Aufrech’s messenger, a teenage boy with an unruly mop of blond hair. The boy bowed his head. “Your Majesties, I apologize for the interruption.”

“Not all. What can we do for you?”

The boy smiled shyly, unfurled a parchment. “Lord von Aufrech requests Your Majesties’ company tomorrow afternoon. The spring festival is on, and he would welcome your attendance at a music performance given by one of his family members.”

Something in the boy’s smile made Dimitri’s blood chill. He did not have a name for whatever it was, but it was not an innocent shy smile. There was an emptiness in the boy’s eyes, and the smile did not move beyond his lips.

_I have worn that smile._

He felt Byleth’s presence at his side, her hand sliding into his. The boy looked between them, and said, “This includes both of you, Your Majesties. Lord von Aufrech would be honored to welcome Her Grace as his guest, when she next visits with the western church.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Byleth said. “Please convey my thanks to Lord von Aufrech.”

“Mine, as well,” Dimitri said. “We will consider his invitation for tomorrow. Please extend our thanks for his kindness. I hope his remaining time in Fhirdiad is pleasant.”

“I will do so, Your Majesties. Thank you.” The boy’s shy smile turned to Byleth. “Your Grace, forgive me for imposing, but, should you choose to join us, Lord von Aufrech’s niece – a talented singer – would welcome your blessing.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

The boy bowed, and the guard escorted him out.

They stood silently for several minutes. Finally, Byleth said, “Is it cold in here?”

Dimitri looked at Dedue, who was staring after the long-departed messenger’s route.

“We don’t have a good excuse not to go,” Dimitri said.

“You don’t have a good excuse _to_ go, either.” Dedue folded his arms. “The exchange was cordial yesterday, but Her Grace was troubled by her brief encounter with Lord von Aufrech. Is a risk worth it?”

“It’s the spring festival,” Byleth said. “In truth, if we don’t go, that looks stranger.”

“Her Grace is correct.”

“Well, why don’t we at least try. Perhaps this is simply old habits driving our concerns.” He shook his head. “Feh. Who am I kidding?”

“We might just be paranoid,” Byleth said. She didn’t sound like she believed herself.

“I will be with you,” Dedue said. “Neither of you will leave my sight.”

Dimitri nodded. He looked around the ballroom. “For now,” he said, squeezing Byleth’s hand, “let’s prepare for a grand victory party.” He gave her a winning smile. “Just like we did after the mock house battle all those years ago. Do you remember?”

Her smile was everything.

“That,” she said, with a touch of genuine fondness, “was quite a party.”


	3. Chapter 3

The evening festivities were another party they would remember for years.

Annette hurled herself at Byleth, hugging her tightly. “I know we just saw you yesterday, but it’s so exciting to see you again!”

Mercedes and Ingrid joined them, Ingrid rolling her eyes at Annette’s exaggerated reaction. “She has no sense of decorum,” Ingrid said.

Byleth laughed. “So, you won’t hug me when you’re our loyal knight?”

Ingrid blushed. “I’ll absolutely hug you, but it won’t be where anyone can see me do it. I have a reputation to uphold.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ashe, who was cheerfully talking with Dedue about the food on display. “By the way, what would His Majesty say to me living off the grounds?”

Annette squeaked. “You and _Ashe_?”

“You’ve been in Fhirdiad for the last six months,” Ingrid said, incredulous. “How are you just learning about this now?”

“Well, you didn’t tell me!”

“Oh, dear,” Mercedes sighed.

Byleth beamed. “Ingrid, you know he won’t stop you.”

“Well, that isn’t the point. I mean, what if I’m needed, and—”

“You will be _fine_. We all live our own lives eventually.” Byleth put her wine glass down, took Ingrid’s hands. “I want you to be happy, Ingrid.”

“That’s all you ever wanted for us, Your Grace.”

“That is all,” Byleth agreed.

Annette sighed contentedly. “This is so romantic, Ingrid.”

Ingrid blushed a deeper scarlet.

“Ah!” Annette said. “It’s already serious. When’re you getting married?”

“Annie!” Mercedes said, bursting into giggles. “It’s been six months!”

“Well, Their Majesties didn’t even wait, what, two months?”

“To be fair, we knew each other for several years before,” Byleth said dryly.

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Annette pretended to fan herself. “Imagine the scandal if you’d gotten married _and_ accepted the Archbishop’s appointment on the same day.”

“I did.”

“You did?”

“Annie, do you really not remember the wedding?” Mercedes peered at her, then said, “To be honest, I don’t remember much of it either. I remember the dress – you look beautiful in blue, Byleth – and a lot of laughter.”

“And wine,” Ingrid said, even drier than the Queen.

Byleth raised her glass, and Ingrid _tinked_ her own against it.

“Turning on us already, huh?” Annette teased. “Ingrid, the Queen said yesterday that you, Mercie, and I are the closest to sisters that she has.”

Ingrid beamed.

“To sisters,” Annette said, holding out her glass. The four women toasted: “To sisters.”

“To the Blue Lionesses,” Byleth said.

“Oh, I like that,” Ingrid said. “I like that very much.”

“The Blue Lionesses,” Mercedes said, tasting the words. “I think it suits us. Look how far we’ve come since we first met.”

Annette nodded vigorously. “Your Grace, I think we need a new house, an all girl’s house, just for us.”

Byleth’s laughter was infectious enough that the four of them giggled their way to the wine table for refills.

* * *

“Well, _they’re_ having a good time,” Sylvain observed, watching the women.

Felix elbowed him.

“Ow.”

“One of those women is your queen. Show a tiny bit of respect, please.”

“Nah, she’d never let me hear the end of it if I do.” Sylvain winked at Dimitri. “Right, Your Majesty?”

“On the contrary, my wife and I have elected to take ourselves very seriously and demand your respect,” Dimitri said, barely managing a straight face behind his wine glass.

“Lies,” Felix said.

“Everything must be just so, precise and decorous.”

“Damned lies.”

“Utterly beyond reproach.”

“Complete and utter lie.”

“Wow, Your Majesty,” Sylvain said, “I think he’s on to you.”

“Oh, no, I’m found out. Felix, however did you know?”

Felix sighed dramatically. “The boar is being sarcastic, and he appears content. I can’t believe I’m here to see it.”

“Well, I’m damned glad you’re here to see it,” Dimitri said. “Glad I’m here to see it, too.”

“Hey, we’re all here,” Sylvain chimed in. “It’s a reunion. Look at us. Eighteen months, and we’re all still here, still standing, and life is good. It’s better than good.” He grinned. “All thanks to Their Majesties.”

Dimitri scoffed. “It’s hardly just us. Everyone is working hard to rebuild, to recapture something they lost. It won’t be easy, and it will take time, but I can see that people are hopeful. That we’re all standing here is proof. I’m thrilled that I get to be here, to see my friends, to _have_ friends. We won a kingdom, and we won back our lives. That’s no small thing.”

Felix nodded his approval, tapped his glass against Dimitri’s. “Well said, boar. Well said.”

“Will you ever cut it out with the ‘boar’ thing?” Sylvain asked. “He’s the King now. Weren’t we just talking about me showing respect?”

“That’s because you’re incorrigible. I’m pragmatic.”

“Don’t ever stop,” Dimitri said, relieved. “I need someone to remind me, on occasion.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Felix’s smile was downright mischievous. “We’ll need him again someday. I have a feeling.”

“Don’t say that too loudly,” Sylvain muttered. “I’d like at least a few more years of peace and quiet.”

“Is that why you keep showing up at my door in the middle of the night after some girl has shut you down or kicked you out?”

“Well, you _are_ quiet…”

Dimitri snickered.

“I can always change those locks,” Felix threatened.

“You know what,” Sylvain said, “I’m going to go find Ashe and Dedue and see what all of those incredible smells are. Are you coming?”

“In a moment,” Felix said. Sylvain clapped him on the shoulder, gave Dimitri a gentle punch the arm, and walked away. “Now that he’s gone on,” Felix said under his breath, “perhaps you and I can discuss something.”

“What’s that?”

“An imperial in the city.”

“Von Aufrech.”

“You’ve met.”

“He came to meetings yesterday, and sent a messenger earlier today. He’s invited us to join him for a performance in the city center tomorrow.”

“You’re not going.”

“I don’t intend to go unarmed.”

“So, you plan to go. You’re a fool, as always.”

“There’s no practical reason to not go.”

“Too true. It would look strange if the King and Queen avoided the festival altogether.” Felix pursed his lips. “Be aware, I’ve heard nothing good about the man.”

“Tell me.”

“He wasn’t close to the throne, but he supported it financially and with bodies. There’s a lot of strong dark magic in that family, though he doesn’t have but a spark of it. He’s a blade man, through and through. He doesn’t want revenge for _her_ death, but he wants compensation of some kind for the Empire’s fall.”

Dimitri wrinkled his brow. “That is impossible to pay, since the Empire is no more.”

Felix waved his hand. “There was financial and industrial compensation given to those who defected or could prove they were coerced into joining. A few of the Leicester Houses were among those. Von Aufrech’s house never fell into either camp.”

“So, what, they’re loyalists?”

“Of a sort. They’re loyal to the Empire, though what that means now, I haven’t the faintest idea.” Felix swirled his wine in his glass. “Be very careful with him. I don’t like people I can’t predict.”

Dimitri toyed with the stem of his glass. “Von Aufrech wanted his presence in the city known, and we talked. Nothing was said that gave me pause, and thus far, he’s done nothing untoward except spook Byleth. He has soldiers in the city, but, again, they’ve done nothing to warrant suspicion.”

Felix frowned, alarmed. “What could possibly spook her?”

“Yesterday, when she was with Annette and Mercedes. She saw him, told Dedue and me about it later. She said there was something off in his smile. It disturbed her.” Dimitri sipped his wine. “His messenger unsettled me.”

“Saw yourself in him, did you?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I met the boy a few days ago, after their arrival. They’re staying in the empty cottage on the Auden estate.” Felix looked into his glass. “I didn’t like him. That smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s broken.”

“I know what that’s like.”

“A kindred spirit,” Felix snorted. “You already have one of those, and she suits you.” His eyes sparkled. “You really are a fine match, boar.”

Dimitri felt a pang of sadness. “What would your father say?”

Felix smirked. “He’d disapprove of the marriage for political and religious reasons in public. Privately, he’d be over the bloody moon.”

“Sounds like him.”

Felix looked at him seriously. He rested a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. “He’s not here, Dimitri, I am. Listen to me when I tell you that _I’m_ the one saying you’re a fine match. She’s your better half in every way. She’s a better fighter – trust me, I know this, we’ve crossed blades a time or three and she’s a master – a better strategist, she’s certainly smarter, and she’s more attractive than you’ll ever be.”

Dimitri chuckled. “Thank you for keeping me humble, old friend.” He tipped his glass towards Felix. “And giving good advice.”

“That, boar, is what I am here for.” Felix smiled, and they clinked glasses.

* * *

The Blue Lions house reunion went long into the evening. Wine flowed, Ashe shyly asked Ingrid to dance with him, and Sylvain made a great show of flirting with Byleth, while Annette feigned horror. “What do you say, Your Grace?” Sylvain said. “The monastery won’t be well protected. You might need a personal bodyguard.”

“Doubtful,” Byleth said, eyes sparkling. “I’m still handy with a blade, Sylvain Jose Gautier, and don’t you forget it.”

“Your Grace, perish the thought. I’d be an idiot to underestimate you.” He winked. “Besides, you’re not as good with the lance, and that’s where _I_ excel.” His words caught up with his brain and he immediately blushed. “Oh, um, that, ah… oh, boy, um, Your Grace, throw me a line here. Please.”

“Absolutely not,” she said, sinking into a chair to keep from collapsing into a fit of laughter.

Sylvain turned a shade of red to match his hair, and sat beside her. “I’ll stop now.”

“Oh, no, please go on. I want to hear more about your lance handling.”

He buried his face in his hands. “Don’t say anything about the King’s prowess, don’t say anything about the King’s prowess…”

Byleth laughed even harder.

Sylvain grinned, his face a magnificent shade of scarlet. “Your Grace, I’ve never heard you laugh like this. I’m almost jealous of His Majesty, if he gets to hear it.”

“Almost?”

“Well, I don’t want to rule a kingdom.” Sylvain looked around, and whispered, “Plus, I’m only a little terrified of him.”

She smiled.

“I’m glad he’s back, and I’m glad he’s king,” Sylvain said. “He’s _our_ king, and you’re our queen.” He grinned. “Can you believe it? Just over six years ago, you were our teacher, and now, you’re our queen.”

She leaned back in her chair. “And Archbishop.”

“I can’t decide if you’re lucky or cursed.”

“Little of both, I think,” she giggled.

“I think you’re a little tipsy, Your Grace.”

“You’re well on your way there, Master Gautier.”

“Agreed,” he said, and raised his glass. “So, when’s the next party? I should make sure I have at least one pretty girl on each arm. Can we bring guests? Or, do I have to convince Annette or Mercedes to marry me?”

“Felix can be your plus one.”

“But he’ll already be here.”

She gave him a mock-stern look. “Do you really think I don’t know what’s going on with you two?”

He grinned. “It’s an open secret, huh?”

“You chase women for appearances, only,” she teased. “I know where your heart really lies.”

He tapped his glass against hers. “You know me too well, professor.”

“That I do.”

Sylvain’s expression turned serious. “Sorry if I’m overstepping here, but, do you want me to keep an eye on His Majesty while you’re at the monastery?”

“If enough of you do that, I’ll sleep better at night.” Byleth smiled, but it felt sad, even as her mind fogged with wine. “I’ll worry enough, and so will he.”

“We’ll take care of him.” Sylvain winked. “I promise not to get him into too much mischief.”

“If you make him and Dedue laugh once in a while, that will be enough.”

“Consider it done, Your Grace.”

* * *

The city bells tolled nearly midnight by the time the dining hall was cleared, and the last of their guests were departing with cheerful goodbyes and slightly drunken walks. Dimitri draped his arm around Byleth’s shoulders as they waved to their friends. When the last had departed, he kissed her. “I had a wonderful time tonight,” he said, face flushed from the wine. “Good food, excellent wine, good conversations. This was perfect.”

“I haven’t laughed so much in ages.” She leaned her head against his chest. “I almost didn’t want tonight to end.”

“We’ll have to plan another party. In the meantime, this one will make a good memory.”

“That assumes we’ll remember this,” she teased.

“Oh, I haven’t had nearly enough to erase this from my mind,” he laughed.

Returning inside, they met Dedue. “This was quite enjoyable,” he said. “I recommend that we commence planning for another banquet at the winter festival.”

“Maybe we can do that tomorrow?” Dimitri suggested, barely suppressing a yawn.

Dedue shrugged. “I am not tired.”

Byleth laughed, but battled her own yawn.

Dedue cracked a smile. “Truly, Majesties, I am exhausted, as well. I bid you good night.” He grew serious. “Before I do, Felix and I spoke about tomorrow afternoon. Do you plan to go armed?”

“I do.” Dimitri looked at Byleth. “Areadbhar should be enough to make an impression, but, in case that imperial tries anything, well. Better prepared than not.”

“Agreed,” she said. “I hope it’s nothing, but, I don’t know.”

“Let’s not let it trouble us tonight,” Dimitri said. “Let’s get some sleep. Pleasant dreams, Dedue.”

“Good night, Dimitri. Good night, Byleth.” Dedue bowed slightly, and departed for his own rooms.

Dimitri tugged on Byleth’s hand, and they ascended the stairs to their bedroom. They undressed, and collapsed into bed, holding tightly to one another, basking in dreams of good company, laughter, and the future they had secured.


	4. Chapter 4

Morning brought a disappointing drizzle of rain, instead of the bright spring day Byleth had hoped for. It continued throughout the morning, and she wondered if the festival would even happen. “Oh, it will,” Dimitri assured her. “It’s rained before, and that doesn’t stop anyone. If it starts to lightning, they might reconsider, but this? No, they won’t stop anything for this.”

They stood on the great palace balcony, cradling steaming cups of tea beneath the roof, warming their hands. The rain was oddly soothing, though it brought an unpleasant chill. Byleth hovered over her tea, the heat bathing her face.

“You never have adapted to the cold, have you?” Dimitri teased.

“I don’t like either extreme,” she admitted. “Too hot or too cold, I don’t like either one. Find me a nice balance.”

He laughed. “Oh, that’s impossible. I think the only perfectly temperate place I’ve ever been is here.”

“You’re kidding. I’m freezing.” She smiled at him. “You’ll have to break out your winter cloak if this keeps up.”

“You only say that because you want to wear it.”

“It is a very comfortable cloak.”

His laughter warmed her very soul. She leaned against him, and he hissed, “Goddess, you _are_ freezing.”

“I told you.”

He _tsk_ ed.

They stood in the cool mist, enjoying the sound of rain on stone, the faint cheering from the city.

Byleth thought, _I’m going to leave all of this behind. If only for a month, I won’t have_ this _life, this man, I won’t have my love close to me._

“So,” she said, “are we going to talk about next week?”

He said, “We should.”

“It can’t be like this every time.”

“It won’t be. This time, it’s just felt more complicated. We’ve had hardly any time alone.”

“We’ve either been with others, at parties, or in meetings. It seems the only time we’re alone is when we’re in bed.”

“An excellent place to be alone,” Dimitri said, with a sparkle to his eye.

“I’ll have to ward off the room when you visit me at Garreg Mach,” she teased.

He grinned smugly.

She scoffed. “Oh, see if I let you in my room with _that_ look on your face.”

Carefully balancing his cup, he ducked his head, nuzzled her throat, and rumbled, “Dear lady, you won’t be able to _resist_ me if I have this look on my face.”

He was right, of course. She’d never be able to resist him, no matter what. She turned her head, kissed him. “I wish I didn’t have to go,” she told him truthfully. “I wish that I could just pick a place. I would choose you, every time.”

“Maybe someday,” he said, stroking her cheek. “Maybe someday, someone will come along whom you can entrust the Church to, who will make Rhea and you proud, and then, _then_ , you can come home to me.” He cupped her jaw. “Byleth, Fhirdiad is your home.”

“ _You_ are my home,” she corrected him. “Wherever you are, that is home.”

Dimitri kissed her. “Beloved, you are my home, too. I will miss you, but I will know where to find you. You will know where to find me. We will have time. It is only a month until we’ll see each other again.”

She sighed. “It’s only a month.” She put her cup down, took his away. She pulled his head closer to hers, rested their foreheads together, her hands cupping his cheeks. She closed her eyes, breathed in his scent – the earthy hay in the stables, sharp metal shavings from maintaining weapons, both contrasted with the silk and cotton of his clothes. “Every day should count,” she murmured.

“They will,” he assured her, eye closed. “We will make them count.”

She opened her eyes. “We’ll always find each other.”

“We did it once.” He smiled. “We will always find each other. No matter what.”

“Even in peacetime.”

“Especially then, because we can.”

She sighed, content, and kissed him. “I love you,” she whispered. “If I am sure of nothing else, it is that. I love you now, I loved you before, and I will love you until the end.”

He hugged her. “You were always there,” he murmured. “In the worst years of my life, I listened for you.” He closed his eye. “I will never forget how you found me.”

“I forgave you a long time ago.”

“You,” he teased gently, “forgave me almost immediately, because you have far too much patience with animals.”

“I have far too much patience with _you_.” She stroked his face. “You saved me, you know that, don’t you? I used to think that I woke up after five years asleep because of the war, but I woke up because of you. I lost everything, but I found you. You are my reason, Dimitri. Seeing your smile, hearing you laugh, that saved me, through all of that terrible war.”

He tightened his embrace. “You pulled me back. When I killed… _her_ … I felt a fog in my mind. I almost wanted to back to her, pick that knife up and… but then, you took my hand. A hundred battles, so many deaths on my hands, and you were still there, pulling me back.” He kissed her. “And now you are here, and you will be again. I won’t fall, just because you’re not here. I’m cracked, but I’m no longer broken, and I never will be again.”

The rain misted the air around them.

“ _What fools in love we are_ ,” she said quietly. “ _To stand upon the edge, and damn Hell and the stars, and say ‘not you and me, but we, forevermore.’”_

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Who said that?”

“It’s from a story that Ashe told me years ago, about a sorceress and a knight, who were enemies, and became friends and eventually lovers. Despite the stars – the knight’s patron – and Hell – the sorceress’ – challenging them at every turn, they chose one another, and lived out their days as adventurers.”

“So, they lived happily ever after?”

“I don’t think Ashe likes stories that don’t end that way.”

Dimitri laughed. “No, no, he doesn’t. If he has his way, I think he’ll have his own happy ending soon.”

“That reminds me, Ingrid wondered if you’d object to her living off the palace grounds.”

“I will insist that she does.” His eye sparkled. “Dedue is more than attentive enough for one bodyguard.”

Byleth grinned. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Oh, he already knows. Why else do you think he’s no longer escorting us to our bedroom every night?”

“You know, I did wonder when that behavior changed. Come to think of it, this month, he hasn’t done it at all.”

“I may have mentioned that you and I prefer our privacy in the evenings.”

“Ah, that explains the books and tea. I don’t think I’ve seen him with the same book twice.”

“I suspect he’ll read half the books in that library before I ever read two of them.”

Byleth laughed. “Well, then, husband, we’ll just have to make more time for reading.”

“Why read when there are other adventures to be had?” He supported her back, and dipped her low. She shrieked, giggling, and he kissed her again. “ _What fools in love we are_ ,” he murmured. “Well, my lady, would you do this fool the honor of attending a spring festival with him?”

“My lord, nothing would be better.”

* * *

Dedue met them in the throne room. He handed Areadbhar to Dimitri, who hefted the lance, a satisfied smile creasing his mouth. Byleth saw the threads of power humming through the lance, the way it was bound so tightly to Dimitri’s crest and his heart that it was an extension of his very soul. She had no talent for the lance, but the sword and magic suited her well. The Sword of the Creator rested in its home in Garreg Mach, and she had magic enough to not need a sword in Fhirdiad.

Dedue nodded his approval as Dimitri, dressed in black shirt, trousers tucked into his boots, and a dark blue vest, the collar lined with black and white fur, casually leaned on the lance and said, “Well? Do I look like their king?”

“A warrior king,” Dedue said. “It suits you.”

“Mercifully, I’m a warrior king with no war to fight,” Dimitri said, relieved. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of fighting for some time.”

Byleth and Dedue both nodded in agreement.

“I spoke with Felix last night,” Dimitri said. “He’s aware of von Aufrech. He’s not keen on him being in the city, and thinks we’re fools for attending the festival. That said, he agrees that we can’t avoid it without raising suspicion.”

Dedue carried two silver throwing axes at his hip. “I believe Areadbhar serves as a badge of office, as well as a weapon. It makes sense for a king to carry it in public. A bodyguard should be more practical.”

“I hope you don’t need them,” Dimitri said. He looked to Byleth. “Beloved?”

She flicked her fingers, and flames danced around her fingertips. “Don’t worry about me.” She closed her fists, and the fire vanished.

Dedue nodded approvingly. “Her Grace is quite adept with magic.”

“Her Grace is many things,” Dimitri said. He smiled at her, extended his hand. “Your Grace, might I request the honor of your company at this year’s Fhirdiad spring festival?”

“Your Majesty,” she said, “nothing would make me happier.”

Dedue chuckled as he followed them into the drizzly morning.

* * *

The light rain remained throughout the day, the overcast sky lending a slight disappointment to the festivities. They found Annette and Mercedes perusing the goods from one of Rowen’s apple merchants; they promised to catch up. A few minutes later, Dimitri, Byleth, and Dedue encountered Felix and Sylvain chatting with an armorer about winter hunting armor. “Planning a trip already?” Dimitri asked.

Sylvain said, “It’s going to be great. I can already tell.”

“We’re hardly planning,” Felix sighed. “He’s getting excited about possibilities because he has the patience of a child.”

“Hey, Your Majesty, when did we last go hunting together?”

Dimitri shrugged. “Honestly, I can’t remember.”

“We hunted with Claude once, when we were students. Our first year,” Felix said. “It was not a good experience, though he’s fascinating to watch with a bow.”

“What made it not good?” Byleth asked.

“Oh,” Felix said, and rubbed the back of his neck. “We… that is, the boar and I argued most of the trip. It was awkward.”

Dimitri grimaced. “I remember now. We were at each other’s throats for days.” He looked at Felix. “In your defense, I was in a foul mood most of that year.”

“You were in a foul mood the entire time we were students,” Felix countered. “You simply hid it well.”

“Oh, boy,” Sylvain groaned. “Here we go.”

“However,” Felix said, straightening his vest, “I have it on fairly good authority that you’ve got a better head on your shoulders these days.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes. She’s standing right there.” Felix smiled, extended his hand to Byleth. “Charmed, Your Grace.”

“Flirt,” she said.

“That would be my copper-headed friend here. I’m simply a former student in admiration of his Queen.” He kissed her hand, and pulled her into a friendly hug. “He’s a lucky bastard,” he said. “Tell him I said that.”

She laughed. “I’ll be sure to do so.”

Dimitri snorted. “I heard that, Felix.”

Felix laughed, released his old teacher. “Remember what I said last night? Her good qualities far outweigh yours.”

“Yet, I have the benefit of watching those good qualities continue to grow.”

“Is this friendly banter?” Sylvain asked Byleth and Dedue, who both regarded the scene with amusement. “I really cannot tell with these two.”

Felix snickered. “This is two old friends who finally understand one another.”

“This is a King and a trusted advisor,” Dimitri added.

“That, too.”

Byleth laughed as Annette and Mercedes joined them. “Apples!” Annette said, holding a wicker basket in her hands, full of purple and red fruits. “Mercie’s going to teach me to make apple pie.”

“Can I help?” Sylvain asked, picking up one of the purple fruits and sniffing it.

Mercedes giggled. “Well, we’ll certainly need a taste tester. This is enough for a few pies.”

“Count me in.”

Byleth rejoined Dimitri. They scanned the crowds of people. Everyone was dressed in comfortable, simple clothes, and despite the misty rain, no one seemed to mind. There was a chill in the air, but hot mugs of brandy-spiked tea kept most of the adults on their feet, while steaming cider perked up the children.

Dedue murmured behind them, “No sign of von Aufrech.”

“Is someone looking?”

“Ashe is on the rooftops, and Ingrid is in flight.”

They looked. Byleth caught a glimpse of Ashe’s white hood and blue tunic as he leapt from one slick rooftop to another. Ingrid’s Pegasus gently glided among other mounted knights.

“Dedue,” Byleth said, under her breath, “you _were_ paying attention to my lessons all those years ago.”

“Your Grace, I will follow your tactical advice to the letter.”

“I don’t remember teaching you about spycraft, though.”

“Ah, yes, well.” Dedue cleared his throat. “Sometimes one must improvise tactics.”

“Good man,” Dimitri said approvingly.

Byleth caught Ingrid’s eye from below. Ingrid waved her hand in acknowledgement, and urged her mount to circle the square. Byleth returned the wave.

“Thus far,” Dedue said, “I am pleased to report nothing.”

“Good man,” Byleth echoed. “You’ll have to teach me some of that spycraft. Excellent work with Ashe and Ingrid. I didn’t even know they were there.”

“I may need Ingrid to teach the other fliers some of those maneuvers,” Dimitri said.

“She’s a natural.”

“She really is.”

Dedue made a _hmm_ of approval.

“Well done, Master Molinaro,” Byleth said, and gave him her biggest smile.

“Agreed,” Dimitri said. “Dedue, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“As I said, I have nothing untoward to report.”

“That’s oddly relieving. Maybe we’ve blown this whole thing out of proportion.” He took Byleth’s hand. “Shall we attend a music performance?”

She nodded. “Who else is coming?”

“The music is always great at the festival,” Annette said, excited. She cradled her basket. “I can’t wait to make pies. Hey, if I get good enough, maybe we can make them together at the monastery, Byleth. What do you say?”

Byleth thought it sounded perfect. “I’m not very good at baking. We can learn together.”

“Hear that, Mercie? You’ll have two students.”

“Oh, dear,” Mercedes mused, “I hope we’ll have enough flour and sugar at Garreg Mach. Maybe I’ll write a letter tomorrow and ask them to stock up. We might go through a lot of pies.”

The three of them laughed.

Felix sighed, and gave Dimitri a pleading look. “You mentioned something about being completely serious?”

“I thought I was quite clearly being sarcastic.” Dimitri grinned, and gave Byleth a one-armed hug.

Sylvain rubbed his belly and said, “I am absolutely willing to be a taste tester!”

Dedue chuckled, which earned him an enormous grin from Dimitri. “I think, Dedue, that we’ll need to arrange a visit. Imagine the lessons you could teach.”

“Truly, baking is an artform.”

Dimitri kissed his wife’s forehead. “Do you hear that, Byleth? Maybe we’ll arrange a visit sooner than expected.”

“It’ll be just like old times,” she said. She stepped forward, took his hand. “Come on! We’ll race you to the town square!”

“Whoa, wait for me!” Dimitri adjusted his grip on Areadbhar, followed after her, laughing as his boots splashed through puddles.

The others hurried behind.

They emerged in the town square just as a beautiful red-haired girl was tuning her lute. A gathering crowd chattered excitedly, as Dimitry and Byleth joined them. The red-haired girl caught their gaze, and her face lit up. “Your Majesties! You came!” She beamed, excited. “I can’t wait for you to hear my songs.”

Byleth let go of Dimitri’s hand, turned to face him. The rain had dampened his hair into a bird’s nest of messy tangles. She reached up to push them out of his eye. He said, “Your hair’s in as much a state as mine.”

“Well,” she teased, “a queen can look a bit dodgy at a festival. A king should look his best.”

“Now you tell me.”

The girl sang a few notes.

The rest of the group caught up. Sylvain stared at the singer. “Maybe I can—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Felix said, grabbing his arm.

“Really, Sylvain, you can’t go one day without fixating on some girl?” Annette mock-scolded.

The girl started to sing a lively tune, celebrating the arrival of spring, and Fhirdiad’s prosperity.

“Although,” Annette added, resting her basket at her feet so she could clap in time with the crowd, “if all the songs are like that, maybe she’d be the perfect wife.”

Mercedes clapped along with her.

A second musician, a fiddler, joined the girl just as she finished her song. A third, holding a small drum, stood beside him. The drummer set the rhythm, and the fiddler carried the girl’s singing melody forward, turning the celebration song into an even more up-tempo dance number.

Despite the rain, the crowd began to dance, partners joining, strangers becoming friends instantly.

Sylvain took Annette’s hand and urged her to leave her basket of apples. “Come on! Let’s dance. It’ll be fun!”

When she giggled, and insisted she wouldn’t risk losing a sing apple, Sylvain turned to Mercedes. “Well, m’lady?”

Laughing, she took his hand, and they joined the crowd.

Byleth looked at Dimitri, who leaned on Areadbhar and said, “Why don’t you dance with Felix? He could use a change of company.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m no good with dances like this.” He shrugged. “Can’t get the rhythm right.”

She laughed, stood on her toes and kissed him. “Good thing I can.” She walked towards Felix. Dimitri admired her, rain dampened and all, saw Felix blanch a bit at the request, then grin, and happily take her hand. It took him a moment to get the rhythm, but soon they were moving towards the crowd, smiling and laughing along with the rest.

Dimitri looked at Dedue. “She looks happy.”

“If I may, Dimitri, you both do.”

“You know,” he said, “I _am_ happy. I feel good.”

“That’s good to hear, Your Majesty.” The voice was from his right. Dimitri looked, saw the figure of Lord Vincent von Aufrech, smiling that same odd smile as his messenger had, the one that didn’t reach the eyes. “Do you like the music?”

“It’s quite lively.”

“It is,” von Aufrech agreed. “I’m glad you could join us.”

Dimitri opened his mouth to say something, but von Aufrech moved so fast, even Dedue could not stop him.

The blade sliced across Dimitri’s throat, and he fell, Areadbhar clattering to the ground beside him.


	5. Chapter 5

The music stopped.

Byleth and Felix whirled, and she saw the crimson spray – _Dimitri._

She saw the man in red beside him, the odd smile, the bloody blade, and then Dimitri fell. He fell forever, seemed to take a lifetime to strike the wet stones. Byleth’s breath stopped.

She raised her left hand, and time stopped.

Her vision turned violet, and she forced the divine power, the pulse, to undo what had just happened. She saw the reversal of the death blow, von Aufrech’s hand rising so quickly that Dedue could not react fast enough. Dimitri could not guard against the blade, and she moved back to when Dimitri had first asked her to dance with Felix.

She blinked, the world returning to normal, and she gasped softly. “Beloved?” Dimitri caught her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She looked at him, saw his unblemished throat, his clear eye, his living, breathing face. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

“Why don’t you dance with Felix? He could use a change of company.”

“Why don’t you dance with me?” she offered instead.

“I’m no good with dances like this.” He shrugged. “Can’t get the rhythm right.”

“I’d rather stay here.”

“If you insist. Sylvain and Mercedes look like they’re having fun. Dedue? Would you like to dance?”

Dedue was looking at Byleth curiously, her flushed cheeks, the pallor creeping over her skin. “Your Grace?” he began.

“Ah, Your Majesties. You made it.”

Byleth saw him, von Aufrech, standing to Dimtri’s right. She looked to his right hand. Von Aufrech noticed. Dimitri did, too.

Von Aufrech opened his palm, a blade falling from his sleeve into his grip. He slashed the knife forward. Blood sprayed Byleth’s face, and she watched the light go out of her beloved’s eye.

She caught him as he fell, his blood staining her clothes. She heard Dedue shout, and she raised her left hand, _pushed_ the magic into the air and the divine power erased the deed again. Her body felt strange as she reversed the event, and Dimitri stood beside her again, whole and safe. She sagged against him this time, the overwhelming emotions threatening to break her in half.

“Byleth!” He caught her around the waist, gently lowered her to the ground. “Byleth? Byleth, what is it?”

Dedue stepped in. “Your Grace?”

“Watch his right,” she managed, and Dedue looked.

Von Aufrech was there, blade in hand. He was so fast. Byleth had never met anyone so fast in her life. The tip of the blade punched through the front of Dimitri’s chest, and he fell forward, pinning her to the ground. She screamed, and the divine magic _pulsed_ into the air.

Again, the deed was undone.

Again, he was safe and alive, and her knees gave out beneath her.

“Byleth!” He tried to catch her, missed, dropped beside her.

She saw von Aufrech, and screamed at Dedue: “Stop him!”

Dedue saw the man for what he was. He stepped in front of Dimitri and Byleth, and Byleth wailed as she saw Dedue’s blood spray into the air. As he collapsed, von Aufrech reached out, grabbed a handful of Dimitri’s hair, and yanked his head back. He drew the knife across his throat, and hurled him forward into Byleth’s waiting arms.

_Pulse._

Reverse, the deaths undone, the blood back where it belonged, life back in their eyes, their hearts, their lungs. She was sobbing, the magic draining her ability to think straight. She fell against Dimitri. Startled, he dropped Areadbhar, caught her.

She looked over his shoulder. “Dedue,” she croaked. “Dedue, stop him.”

Dedue looked. Von Aufrech stood there, and said, “Your Majesties. I’m so pleased you could make it. Is something wrong?”

“Stop him,” Byleth pleaded.

“Byleth?” Dimitri’s single eye was full of worry and confusion. “Byleth, talk to me.”

“Dedue!” she rasped. “Dedue! Stop him!”

It was too late. This time, Annette saw the movement, and screamed so loudly everyone stopped moving. Von Aufrech didn’t hesitate. He turned on her first. The basket dropped, apples spilled across the stones, some dappled crimson with her blood.

Dedue lunged for von Aufrech, who pulled a second blade from his boot and drove it into Dedue’s heart. The man collapsed.

Dimitri scrambled for Areadbhar, stood, and von Aufrech was there, sliding the blade between his ribs. “For the Empire,” von Aufrech said, as Dimitri died again.

 _Pulse._ Byleth reversed time. She undid the deaths, the damage, the horror. She could not unsee her friends dying, could not unsee her beloved dying, but she would not allow it to happen again.

She managed to stay on her feet this time – _five_ – and she gripped Dimitri’s shirt. She looked past him at Dedue, and said, “Von Aufrech. He’s here. He has a knife. Stop him.”

Dedue looked at her, incredulous.

Dimitri said, “Byleth, what are you—”

His right side. His blind side. Von Aufrech slipped from the crowd and buried the blade between his ribs.

 _Pulse_.

 _Six_.

Tears were streaming down Byleth’s face as she undid his death _again._

_Never again. I will not endure this again._

She screamed as time reoriented itself. Dimitri nearly leapt out of his skin, stared at her with confusion. “Byleth! What—”

“Don’t,” she pleaded. “Don’t ask me questions. Just listen to—”

The crowds were staring. Sylvain and Mercedes emerged. “Hey, Your Grace, are you all right?”

“Sylvain, no!” she begged, but von Aufrech was there, materializing from the crowd like a ghost. One knife from his boot this time, and into Sylvain’s side it went. He yelped, tried to yank the blade free, but von Aufrech kicked him into the crowd, and marched on Dimitri. Dedue got in his way, and earned the blade in his place.

_Pulse._

_Seven._

_Goddess, I have one more in me._

She was shaking, trembling, tears streaming from her eyes. She looked at Dimitri, whose face was fixed in terrified alarm. “Byleth! What—”

“Listen to me,” she whispered. “You’re going to die. Dedue’s going to die. We will all die. Just listen and watch your right side. Von Aufrech is here, and—”

She’d waited too long.

The imperial was there, his dead smile fixed on her. “Your Majesties,” he said. “I’m so glad you could join us.”

Two blades in his hands. One slid into Dimtri’s side; the other aimed for Byleth’s throat.

She felt it kiss her skin as she hurled the last of the magic into the air.

 _This time I_ must _stop him. This time they can’t die. None of them can die._

_Pulse._

_Eight._

She was barely on her feet. She gripped Dimitri’s arms. He nearly dropped Areadbhar. “No,” she rasped, her voice so hoarse she could barely be heard. “Don’t drop it. Have faith in me. Look at me.” Confused, he did so. “Look at me,” she said. “I love you. I love you, and I will not allow this to happen again.”

“What are you—”

“Ah, Your Majesties. I’m so glad you could join us.”

Von Aufrech came upon Dimitri’s right side. Byleth gave him no opportunity. She tightened her grasp on Dimitris’ arms, pushed him, whirled so her back was to von Aufrech, and said, “Dimitri, beloved, look at me.”

He did, and the blade plunged into her back.

* * *

Von Aufrech was one of the fastest men Dimitri had ever encountered. One moment, he was behind Byleth. When the blade struck her, Dimitri caught her in his free hand. He dropped to one knee; her blood spilled over his hands and clothes, staining his exposed skin.

_No. No. No._

_Goddess,_ no.

The assassin was behind him, and he felt the flat of a blade against his throat.

“Yes,” von Aufrech purred, “I am so _glad_ you could join us.”

Dimitri stared at Byleth’s face. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips pale, her skin spattered crimson.

He heard screams around them, heard his friends shouting. The voices meant nothing, the words were empty. He held his wife’s body – _bleeding, broken, Byleth, beloved_ – and his mind emptied of all thoughts save **_revenge_.**

When he felt the blade’s edge against the soft skin at his throat, he whirled, shoved the lance’s haft hard against von Aufrech’s knife hand. Instead of a killing blow, von Aufrech buried it deeply in Dimitri’s right shoulder. He felt the tip punch out, beneath his collar bone. He roared in pain, and he lost control over his arm as it fell to his side. His nerveless fingers nearly dropped Areadbhar.

Von Aufrech circled around him, standing just beside Byleth’s dying body.

“Well,” the former imperial said, smiling, dusting his hands off. “I’d say that’s repayment enough for an empire. Do say ‘hello’ to Edelgard for me in Hell, won’t you?”

Dimitri stared.

Pain meant nothing. Blood was simply a byproduct. Action was all that mattered.

He flicked his wrist against the agony. Areadbhar hurled forward several inches. Dimitri tightened his death grip on the lance, and slashed it in a single controlled movement. The tip bit deeply into von Aufrech’s throat, and the man in red was now a man _of_ red, as his body fell to the stones. He died, while Dimitri watched, not breathing, not speaking, not even blinking.

There was a great roar in his ears, like the ocean waves, a deafening assault on his delicate senses.

**_Good. You have crushed an enemy._ **

**_The dead are satisfied to see you have not forgotten how._ **

“Dimitri!”

 _Dedue_.

He gasped, exhaling a horrible breath. Dedue was beside him, talking to him, but the words made no sense, they meant nothing. “Your Majesty, Dimitri, please, let her go. We can help her, but you must let her go.”

_Let who go?_

He looked, saw his beloved’s crimson spattered face, his own blood joining hers, staining her skin. He felt a blade at her back, resting against his arm. Clumsily, he fumbled for it, wrenched it out of her. She uttered an agonized groan, but did not stir. He pulled her against his chest, falling back, holding her, felt her blood staining his sleeves and hands.

“Mercedes!” he wailed. “Mer-Mercedes! Help her!”

She was there, pushing through the crowd, Sylvain, Felix, and Annette at her heels. Mercedes slid to her knees beside him, and Dimtri dimly heard Ingrid and Ashe’s voices, pushing the crowds back, pleading for room and calm. Dedue stood over him, and Dimitri raised his face to meet his oldest friend’s gaze.

“What did I do?” Dimitri whispered.

“What had to be done,” Dedue said. He crouched. “Mercedes. Can you help?”

“I think so,” she said. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Oh, Byleth.” Her hands lit with white magic, and she gently pressed them to Byleth’s wound.

Dimitri flinched as he felt the magic seek out his own wound. The magic tried to creep up his right arm. “No,” he said fiercely. “No, no, don’t bother with me. Take care of her.”

“Please stay calm,” Mercedes soothed. “Sometimes, it has a mind of its own.”

“Mercedes,” he pleaded.

“Shush,” she said, somewhat sternly. “Let me work.”

He cradled Byleth’s body, his heart shattering with every breath he took that she struggled for. It took time for him to realize that Annette had joined Mercedes, their combined healing magic carefully knitting the wound in Byleth’s back, mending ravaged veins and tissue, muscle and skin, until all that remained was a fresh scar. When she took a breath, he bowed his head, and tears dripped from his good eye onto her face.

He felt Dedue’s hand on his unwounded shoulder. “Please hold still, Dimitri,” his friend murmured. “This will hurt.”

Dimitri did not feel much of anything, even as Dedue eased the blade out of his right shoulder. Dimitri vaguely heard Sylvain swear, and Felix knelt beside him. “Don’t argue, boar,” Felix said. “I'm not as patient as Mercedes.”

He felt the heat of healing magic against his shoulder. White heat poured into the injury, purified it, crept down through his arm, healing damaged veins and nerves, leaving numbness in its wake. He let out another aching exhalation when Felix removed his hand, and pulled Byleth close. He felt her breath against his throat, and slowly lifted his gaze to look into Felix’s grim, but relieved, face. “Thank you,” Dimitri whispered.

Felix raised his eyes to look at Dedue. “I think that’s enough excitement for one day,” Felix said dryly. “Let’s get them home. Where’s Ingrid? I think we need a flier.”

“No,” Dimitri argued, and struggled to his feet, holding Byleth awkwardly. “I have her.”

“You can barely stand,” Felix snapped. “Dedue. Talk some sense into him.”

Dedue simply reached out and took Byleth’s unconscious body. He said, “Dimitri. She is safe.”

Dimitri started to protest, but Sylvain got beneath his left shoulder, and said, “Come on, Your Majesty. We’ve got you.” Felix was beneath his other, newly healed arm.

Dimitri knew he’d lost this particular battle. Dedue stayed within sight, cradling Byleth, speaking softly to her, even if she could not hear him at present. What he was saying, Dimitri could not tell, but his limited vision was already greying. His every breath was pain and prickling nerves, and he wanted to reach out and touch her.

By the time they reached the palace doors, he was nearly unconscious.

When he slid out of Sylvain and Felix’s combine grasps, the last thing he heard was the pulse of his own heartbeat.


	6. Chapter 6

Byleth dreamed:

_“Hey, kid.”_

_Byleth has a bloody rag pressed to her arm._

_“Kid.”_

_She ignores the voice._

_“Kid. Open the door.”_

_She will not. She can take care of herself. It’s not hard._

_“Open the damn door, Byleth.”_

_Oh, he’s using her_ name _now. So that’s how it is._

_She marches to the door, yanks it open, faces her father. “What?” she demands._

_Jeralt looks at her wounded arm. “Pierrot feels pretty shit about that,” he said. “That doesn’t make it better, but, he’s sorry.”_

_“He couldn’t apologize himself?” she snaps. “He was supposed to have my back. How am I supposed to trust someone who can’t avoid hitting me in a close quarters fight?”_

_Jeralt scowls. “You think I haven’t already chewed him out? Kid, when we’re done with this crew, it’s just us again. You think I wouldn’t rake someone over the coals for putting your life at risk?”_

_“My sword arm,” she says flatly. “This is my_ sword arm. _The arm I make a_ living _with. If Pierrot feels so bad about it, he can come in here and heal me himself!” She walks to her things, picks up her sword in her left hand. “Better yet, let me maim him. Let’s see how well he does.”_

_Jeralt holds up his hands. “Kid.”_

_“I’m angry.”_

_“I’m aware.”_

_“I hate being angry. It makes no sense. It’s just pulsing heat and headaches and nothing. I don’t like being angry.”_

_“I know. I’m sorry I’m not better at understanding it.” He sighs. “Look, I’m not much for healing, but I can at least take care of that for you.”_

_“I can do it myself.”_

_“You can, and then you’ll fall on your ass. I wish I had time to get a better teacher for you.” He steps forward. “Come on, kid. It’s me. Let me take care of you for once.”_

_Sighing, she sits, lets him take her right arm. Jeralt examines the wound. “You cleaned it up well enough,” he says. “Let’s see if I can take a bit of the edge off.” His fingers glow with pale light, and she flinches as the magic wraps around the wound. She feels the muscles reconnect, the deep veins repair, the skin seal into a perfect, even scar. When he is done, he steps back, releases her._

_“It’s not entirely his fault, kid,” he says gently. “You’re reckless. Make sure you’re always watching your own back, as well as your friend’s. Don’t give it all when someone else might still need you later.”_

* * *

She cracked an eye open to a beam of pale moonlight streaming through the window. She blinked, her eyes adjusting. She slowly sat up, winced at the tug of a new scar on her back. She tried to rotate her arm to feel for it, but she was so stiff she decided not to bother.

She looked around. She was in her bed – _not theirs_ – in her rooms at the palace, dressed in a simple nightshirt. _How did I get here?_

She heard breathing, ragged, stressed. She lifted her head, found Dimitri, sprawled in a chair at the end of the bed. His face was pinched, his brow furrowed. In the moonlight, his skin was pale, his hair had lost its luster, and even his lips lack color. She saw his chest twitch as he breathed.

_He’s alive._

He whimpered, and she heard him mutter: “No, no, no. Not that. No.”

Her back ached, but she could not leave him alone.

_He’s alive._

_Goddess, let the others be alive, too._

She felt her shoulders tighten as she slipped from the bed. She pulled the blanket with her, and crawled onto the chair with him. She settled against him, pulled the blanket over them, and heard him mumble, “B’let’?”

“I’m here, beloved,” she murmured, her voice nearly gone. “I’m here.”

His face relaxed, his hand settled against her back. His head rolled to the side, his blind right side facing her. She rested her hand over his heart, felt the strong pulse beneath her fingers. “I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

* * *

Dimitri dreamed:

_“Look at me.”_

_He will not._

_“Look at me.”_

_He will not look. If he looks, she will die. If she dies, he will become nothing._

_“Look at me.”_

_“No,” he says. He will put out his other eye if she continues to beg him to look at her._

_“Look at me, beloved.”_

_The voice mocks him with that word._

_She must be among the dead, haunting him, pleading with him: “Look at me, Dimitri. Please. Look at me.”_

_“No.”_

_“Look at me. Please. Look at me.”_

_He refuses._

_He turns his back._

_He feels her hands, resting on his back. “Beloved. Look at me.”_

_He can’t. He cannot look at her. If he looks at her, she will be among them, and he does not want that, not for her. He cannot have her voice among_ them _._

_“Dimitri.” Her head settles against his back. “Dimitri. Look at me.”_

_Trembling, he falls to his knees. “No,” he pleads. “No, do not ask me this.”_

_He feels her dress brush his arm; her knee touches his. Her hands cup his face. “Beloved._ Look _at me.”_

_Unable to resist any longer, he opens his eye and looks._

_Her smile is real. Her eyes shine. She brushes his hair out of his eye. “You looked at me,” she says. Her smile reaches her eyes._

_He could drown in her eyes._

* * *

He felt a weight on his chest, waking him from his restless sleep. Through a cracked eyelid, he saw a headful of pale green hair, felt splayed fingers over his heart. He opened his eye, craned his neck. She was curled up against him, fast asleep, her soft breaths puffing against his shirt.

He blinked once, twice. He looked at her.

She’d pulled a blanket over them, and he fumbled with it, careful not to wake her. He spread the blanket so it covered her completely; it stopped halfway down his legs. He folded his arms around her, pressed a kiss to her hair.

She stirred, lifted her face.

In the moonlight, her pale green eyes were almost silver.

“Hello, beloved,” she whispered.

“Hello, beloved.”

Both of their voices were wrecked – hoarse, strained from screaming and sobbing - but they could speak.

“You saved my life,” he murmured. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but you saved my life.” He snorted softly. “Again.”

She pressed her fingers against his chest. “I was thinking,” she said softly, “that if I could save your life, if I had the power to do so, I shouldn’t waste it.”

He tensed, took her left hand in his. He cradled her fingers. “I remember, ages ago, I, I think it was after we rescued Annette and Gilbert. Everyone was in bad shape, alive, but rough. You, though, you were drained. I could sense the magic, but I didn’t understand it.”

“A gift,” she murmured. “From a long time ago. Do you remember when we first met?”

He laughed softly. “I can’t forget it.”

“When those bandits attacked us, I stepped in front of Edelgard. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.” He inhaled through his nose. “I also remember that something… cracked? There was a sound, it was magic, I remember that. I’ve heard it on occasion since then, but, I’ll admit, I’ve mostly thought I imagined it.”

“You didn’t. It has that sound.”

“What happened, Byleth? You were… I’ve never seen you like that. You were agitated, screaming, and then, you pushed me out of the way. What happened?”

“I saw you die,” she said. “I saw our friends die. I have the power to save your lives, and I used it.” She shook her head. “I haven’t needed it since Enbarr. There’s been no reason to use it. It’s… exhausting.”

“You nearly got yourself killed in the process.”

She released his hand, stroked his jaw. “I couldn’t see you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Dead, dying, when I could stop it.” She smiled. “Is everyone all right?”

He nodded. “Von Aufrech is dead. I killed him.”

She looked stricken. “Dimitri.”

“It’s done,” he said. “He left me a souvenir, anyway.” He smiled tightly. “We have matching scars, now, beloved.”

“You’re alive,” she said. “I’d risk a scar for that.”

“And I for you.”

“You’ve gotten a few scars on my account. I’m sorry I couldn’t spare you another.”

“You saved my life. I will take any scar necessary for that outcome.”

She laughed softly. “What fools in love we are.”

“What fools in love we are,” he agreed. He kissed the top of her head. “Everyone else is scattered around the palace, worried sick. It’s been two days, but here we are. I hate to think of what this will do to the festival mood, but, the man responsible is dead, and we are all alive. That is something.”

She rested her head on his chest. They rested for a while, and finally, she said, “What did he want?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His hand stroked her back. “He’s dead. We are not.”

“His men—”

“Fled the city, or were captured attempting to do so.” He leaned his head back. “I wasn’t in much better shape than you. Sylvain and Felix dragged me back here, and I lost consciousness outside. I woke up yesterday evening.”

“Two days?” Her heart was in her throat. “I slept for two days?”

“Better than five years.”

“That is not funny.”

“You’re right. My apologies.”

His tone was light, but his sense of humor was unpredictable. “Dimitri, tell me the truth. Are you all right?”

“No, but I will be.” He looked at her, smiling. “As will you.”

She didn’t hide her relief. “What a pair we are,” she said.

“No other pair I could imagine.” His fingers trailed through her hair. “You saved my life, Byleth. You’re making a habit of it.”

“Consider it payback for how many times you saved me.”

“We must find a better way to thank one another. Throwing ourselves in danger is a bit much these days.”

She smiled.

“There you are,” he said softly, and tipped her chin up. He kissed her gently, studied her face.

“What is it?”

“I am memorizing your face as it is now. That way, when I inevitably have nightmares about this day – don’t look at me like that, Byleth.”

“Don’t joke about things like that, Dimitri.”

“It’s not a joke when I’m stating a fact.”

She sighed. “Noted. Continue.”

He huffed a laugh. “Well, since I have your permission, _Your Grace_.”

“Ugh.”

“My point is, you’re always there for me in my dreams. Even in my worst ones, you’re always there.” He touched her forehead with his. “This will eventually fade into a dream, but right now, it is too real. I nearly lost you, and…” He looked at his hand, closed it into a fist. “When you go—”

“Dimitri, no, let’s not talk about it.”

“When you go,” he continued, “we will take precautions, just in case. I’ll escort you to the monastery myself.”

“It’s a three-day journey.”

“I think the court will understand.”

“I could postpone.”

He smiled. “Someday,” he said, “when you find a worthy successor, we will not play this game of back and forth.”

“We knew what we were getting into.”

“We did. I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, perhaps one thing, but, that decision wasn’t exactly in my hands, was it?” He tugged gently on a lock of her hair. “I wonder what Rhea knows about you that I don’t. There can’t be much, but she named you her heir even before the war. I wonder what she knows.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Byleth admitted. “She’s barely spoken a dozen words to me since we rescued her at Enbarr. The last time I tried to talk to her, she ignored me. That was after our wedding, so, perhaps she was expressing disappointment? I don’t know.”

“Maybe it’s for the best.” He settled back in his chair, pulled her close. She reached for the blanket, pulled it up around her shoulders. For a moment, she thought he’d fallen asleep, and then he said, “I don’t shatter so easily these days.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t so long ago that I would’ve torn von Aufrech’s throat out with my bare hands for what he did. His death won’t trouble me, and the ease of it won’t either. What will trouble me is the risk you took for me.”

“Don’t let that eat you alive.”

“Oh, it won’t.” He chuckled. “You’ll never let me hear the end of it if I do.”

“You know me so well, husband.”

“I do, indeed, wife.” He kissed her forehead. “We will heal and we will come through this.” He snorted. “Goddess, I can’t believe _I’m_ the one saying that.”

She sat up, cradled his face. “I don’t tell you this enough, but I love the man you’ve become.”

He smiled. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“You would’ve found your way eventually.”

“Not without you to guide me.” He took one of her hands, pressed it to his cheek. “Without you, there would still be one more monster out there.” His blue eye glinted. “You saved my life again.”

“You saved me, too.” She folded her arms around his neck. “I am my beloved’s…”

Mindful of their healed injuries, he did not hug her nearly as tightly as he wanted to. “…And my beloved is mine,” he finished the vow they’d shared on their wedding day, a promise that meant more to them than, he believed, anyone else who had ever spoken similar words. He knew her as he knew his own soul, knew her as his other half, his _better_ half. He gave her his strength, his love, his vow to be the man she’d seen from the first. She gave him love, a reason for being, and hope.

That last had been missing from his life for so long. Holding her now, alive, warm, and whole, restored him. “You are my hope,” he murmured, and held her.

Together, they drifted into a dreamless sleep.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I burned through the Blue Lions arc in about 10 days (yes, it is 2020, and I am very late to this particular party), and I am blown away by FE:3H. I was so taken that I was compelled to write. Here, then, are the first of four short stories I have planned, with a much longer adventure coming in (November, just in time for winter) - UPDATE: that November big story is obviously not happening, and Part 4 is in progress (slow, slow progress).


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